


Suitable

by Cimila



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Historical Inaccuracy, Knotting, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mates, Miscommunication, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Threesome - M/M/M, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:48:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3755068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cimila/pseuds/Cimila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lord Harts mate isn't suitable, so Eggsy's forced to step in.</p><p>Except, Lord Hart isn't exactly going to leave his mate for Eggsy, is he?</p><p>And Eggsy's fine with that. He is. Completely fine. He ain't in love or anything.</p><p>It's fine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another cross-post from Kinksmen, for the prompt:
> 
> Arranged Marriage au - because every fandom needs one!
> 
> Eggsy, bastard of royal blood who spend most of his life shunt away from rest of his "family" is suddenly taken away from his mother and forced into arranged marriage with powerful and quite infamous for his conquests war lord Harry Hart. Eggsy expects some blood thirsty bastard like his stepfather - instead he meets 50-ish gentlemen who in honor of their future union beats the living shit out of his stepbrother and his bunch of half brains. Eggsy may be a little bit in love already.
> 
> Doesn't quite hit all the parts of the prompt, but I think it captures the spirit of it :)
> 
> Also, thank you to everyone who commented on the kink meme, I loved reading them - I assure you every one made me smile like an absolute idiot.

“So, why couldn't you just marry your Alpha lover, then? How’m I more suitable than whoever left their scent all over you?” Eggsy asked, taking a deliberate sniff of the air, probably horrifying the old bat in the corner, given the way she gasps and looks completely scandalized. Eggsy doesn't even bother to hide his glee, just smirks at her. It’s ‘not done’ in high society, to mention what scents you can detect on other people, not when you’re talking about sex scents at least. But War Lord Harry Hart, who’s conquered more territories for King and country than just about anyone, ever, absolutely reeks of Alpha scent. Mating scent. And, hiding just under his collar, only the smallest sliver visible, is what’s probably a mating mark.

Which begs the question, why does Harry Hart need a mate, when he already has one?

The elderly Lady in the corner started to speak, meaningless words that Eggsy’d already sat through twenty times. He looks at the woman who’d orchestrated everything, from his being taken away from his mother to being in this room, being introduced to Lord Hart and told that they were to be mates, a wonderfully suitable pair, and sneers. He’s sure his sharp teeth glint menacingly in the light, and she looks scandalized again. It’s not done to threaten Omegas, either, but he’s not from high society, whatever the blood that runs through his veins, and he ain’t gonna play by their rules.

“Bullshit. ‘M a bastard you’d’ve spat on rather than look at three months ago. I ain’t suitable for any o’ you posh toffs, far as you’re concerned. Even if I am the best of your grand kids.” He’s seen those in line for the throne; it’s a wonder that anything gets done, if they’re the ones who’re in charge. He doubts any of them could tell which end of a sword to grab, let alone swing it.

“Quite right.” Eggsy’s broken from his stare down with the lady who’s technically his grandmother, not that she’d like to admit it, by Lord Hart.

“You see, it’s been decreed by the crown that I need to be properly mated, to set a good example for the gentry. When I informed them I was already mated, it was decided that he was not suitable, and a new mate had to be found.” Though his expression didn't change at all, Lord Harry Hart had turned from a well mannered Omega into something deadly during the explanation. He was not a happy man, and who would be, told that they’d have to break their mating off to satisfy a royal who probably had his thumb up his arse. Lord Hart looks at Eggsy steadily, and Eggsy knows he shouldn't bait the man, has seen enough dangerous men in the military to know to leave well enough alone, but he can’t help it. They took him away from his mum, his _sister_ , for this. No choice, just an ultimatum. A threat.

“And how reprehensible’s the bloke you shacked up with if I’m a better choice?” Lord Harts lips thin, before he says,

“He’s a Scot.” Which, that is a surprise. The crown’s been trying to make inroads into the highlands for years, and have been unsuccessful every time. Though currently at peace, Eggsy’d learnt from his time in the army that there was massive hostility between the British nobles and, well, all of Scotland. Eggsy himself didn’t much care, neither did anyone he’d grown up with; it was a rich mans game, and people had enough trouble getting by where he was from, without adding anymore.

“Still doesn’t explain why you ain’t shaking up with some right proper Alpha, one of your war buddies or something. Surely they’d give you time to...oh.” Eggsy says, raising an eyebrow at the lean form of Lord Hart.

“You up the duff, then? Just far enough along you thought you’d be able to pass it off as mine if I mated you soon enough.” It was a pretty genius strategy, actually. They’d never try to pull that one over on a noble, the bloodlines were too important, but on Eggsy, who was illegitimate and not in line for the throne regardless of the blood that made him eligible for the predicament he was now it. They’d probably have more luck fooling one of the rich toffs, they’d never even consider someone trying to pull the wool over like this; think too much of themselves. Eggsy has a sharper sense of smell than most though, can scent the faint curls of pregnancy just barely wafting through Lord Harts scent, now that he’s looking for it. And, a few months back, Janine gave birth to a kid with dark skin who bore a striking resemblance to the neighbour she’d had before she mated Mike.

“Lord Hart will, of course, have the fetus aborted. Then you’ll be able to consummate.”

“Wot?” Eggsy looked at his grandmother, completely stunned. Lord Hart had his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white, and the look in his eyes was murderous. She looked as if she were talking about the weather, sipping tea like she hadn’t just decided to abort someone elses baby. Someone who wanted it badly enough to _re-mate_ in order to keep it.

“And you’re fuckin' okay with this?” Eggsy looked to Lord Hart, who Eggsy was fairly sure was three seconds from killing them both and escaping into the highlands with his baby and his Scot.

“Just so.” The war lord replied tightly, which astounded Eggsy. If he had as much power as Hart did, if he was even half as dangerous, there would be no way he’d let himself be pushed around, especially not over something like this.

“Well I’m bloody fucking not!” His grandmother looked disapproving now, tutting.

“If you’re worried about the abortion causing infertility, I can assure you that’s an old wives tale. It will be a safe, legal abortion, not some back alley-”

“You really think my problem is where he gets the abortion done? Are you fucking mental? My problem is you’re gonna force him to abort in the first choice. If you wanna go through with it, sure, but I can tell from looking at you that you sure as hell don’t want to.” The Lady Unwin places her tea cup down angrily, glaring at Eggsy.

“And what do you propose then? Simply let Lord Hart remain mated to the Scot? Need I remind you that your mother and sister-”

“No, you don’t fuckin ‘need to remind me.’” He said, mocking her posh enunciation.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t mate him. If you want to keep the baby, keep it. I’ll still raise the kid.” It’s not really as big a deal as his grandmother seems to think. Happens all the time where he’s from. People die, and their mates can remarry if they want to. Hell, Eggsy had a step dad, right prick though he was. Not like he’s opposed to the situation, though he’ll be a sight better at the job than Dean ever was.

Across the table, Lord Hart has relaxed almost completely. There might even be the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, which was not actually attractive. Eggsy didn’t need to go mooning over the man, no matter how attractive.

This was an arranged mating, and Lord Hart didn’t seem all too keen to break off his previous mating, so there was no need to get his hopes up they’d actually have a relationship. After the consummated, he doubted Lord Hart would touch him ever again.

-

The best thing to do, Eggsy decided when his mum was carefully straightening the lapels of the bespoke suit that he’d been fitted for at his grandmothers instruction, was to stay detached. Keep spitting acid, like he’d been doing since he arrived, and keep everyone at arms length. Everything and everyone will be better for it, if he keeps his stupid heart out of it.

There’s no use looking at Lord Hart and thinking ‘ _mine_.’ It’s ridiculous, even if the man is walking down the aisle towards him. He’s only seen the man once since their disastrous first meeting; he’d been overseeing the training of a few of the potential new knights, face set into neutral lines. There’d been nothing spectacular about him in that moment, but Eggsy had felt his heart skip before he’d hurried on.

So he may have avoided his husband-to-be in the few short days between their meeting and their marriage, but he couldn't avoid the scent of him. It lingered in the corridors, and Eggsy knew he’d be able to pick it out of a crowd. He tried to ignore it, but he had to have his wits about him if he was to survive the vipers nest of the high class he’d been thrown into and there was no room for denial. Lord Harry Hart followed Daisy down the aisle of the small room, the little girl beaming as she threw flower petals, and Eggsy admitted that he was fucked. Because Hart was looking at Daisy with affection, looking superb in his suit, and Eggsy was pretty sure that he’d fucked up and fallen into a fairy tale somewhere along the way. He didn’t even know the man, but Eggsy wanted everything he was, everything he had, wanted to be known and owned in turn.

Except this was real, and there was no way that Hart was his ‘true mate’ or some trite shite, like in one of those stories they tell kids. And even if it was true, it didn’t matter. If this was a fairy tale and Lord Hart the princess, Eggsy sure as hell wasn’t the prince. Not with his accent and the way he held himself, especially when compared to Hart. The prince was Lord Harts’ Scot, who’d heroically swoop in at the last minute and save the show. Eggsy was just the monster, the final obstacle for love to overcome.

He has no claim over Lord Hart, or his child; they both belong to someone else, regardless of their impending mating.

No, Eggsy would endeavour to stay far, far away from Lord Hart and his offspring, and from the Scot if he ever found out who it was. Otherwise when Lord Hart figured a way out of it, and Eggsy’s sure he will, Eggsy’d be the one to get his heart squashed. If he let himself get emotionally involved, he’d lose a mate and a child when Lord Hart walked out of his life. Hell, he’s not supposed to be invested _now_ , barely hours after their wedding, but he feels sick at the thought of Harry- of Lord Hart leaving.

He watches the older Lord strip efficiently out of his clothes, tries to be clinical as he watches his new husband, but knows he failed. How could he be indifferent when, bit by bit, the skin of his almost mate is revealed to him? When he’ll be able to touch, to claim? Eggsy busies himself with stripping off his own clothing, as careless with the expensive suit as Lord Hart is careful. The older man tuts when Eggsy kicks his trousers off, and the blond looks up, shocked. He can’t’ve disappointed his husband yet; he’s still got his pants on.

He doesn’t get a chance to get out more than a half muttered, “Lord Hart” before his brain short circuits at the sight of the War Lord walking towards him, naked and unashamed in his nudity.

“I expect it’s acceptable to call me Harry, at this juncture.” He says drily, draping Eggsy's suit jacket over a chair, folding his trousers properly.

Eggsy just nods, wants to volunteer his own preferred name, but can’t get past the sight of Harry, soon to be his Harry, his mate, his mark on beautiful skin. It probably doesn’t matter, anyway. Having Harry call him Gary will reinforce the distance. It’ll remind him that he doesn’t belong here, not even in his own bed, with his own husband. Besides, Eggsy’s pretty sure Harry ain’t gonna be screaming his name at the end of the night, regardless of how well Eggsy performs.

And he’s right.


	2. Chapter 2

Clinical is probably the best way to describe the consummation of their marriage, the start of their mate bond. Harry barely seems affected by the sight of Eggsy naked, and his indifference, his complete lack of interest, gives Eggsy trouble. He’s never fucked anyone who wasn’t completely enthusiastic about it, and the sight of his mate with his head turned away, ready to lay back and think of England (or Scotland, and his actual mate, the person he _actually_ wants between his legs) does worse than nothing for him. Eggsy had been worried that he’d embarrass himself, slide into Harry and knot up straight away at the pleasure of being inside his mate.

Instead, he can’t even get it up.

He has to look away as he strokes himself to hardness, staring at the ceiling and thinking about fucking a Harry who’s willing, who arches into his touch and spreads himself eagerly, already dripping wet by the time Eggsy buries his face in his arse. Because Eggsy wants to, wants to do everything with Harry, and he avoids the thought that Harry wants to do nothing with him because that would send him soft again, and that would be truly mortifying. It only takes a minute or so of wanking about a Harry who actually wants his cock before he’s hard, before he can’t smell anything but his own pheromones, the Alpha musk overpowering.

There’s a moment, when he looks back down at Harry, cock in hand, that their eyes meet. Eggsy feels it like an electric current, the eye contact moving through his body in a shudder and straight to his cock. Harry probably feels nothing at all, Eggsy knows, but still inches himself up the bed and closer to his new husband. If he had a choice, he’d fake it, wouldn’t touch Harry for all that he’s dying to, but if he screws up and is found out, he doesn’t even want to think about what’ll happen to his mum and Daisy.

The older man obligingly parts his legs when Eggsy gets close enough, hips tilted up in an invitation that isn’t repeated anywhere else on his body, and Eggsy can see his arse, wants to eat Harry out, see what his slick tastes like. Wants to finger him open, make Harry so desperate for his cock that he’s begging for it, then fuck him until they’re knotted together. Except he’d probably receive a knee to the head if he leant in face first, and the chance that Harry’s wet for him is practically non-existent. So he reaches over Harry to the bedside table, rummages around for some artificial slick. He’s not surprised to find some, knowing his grandmother will have planned for every possible problem.

“Are you comfortable like this, or…” Eggsy trails off, risking hesitantly placing a hand on Harrys up turned knee, lube in his other hand. He’s cautious with his touch, knows that Harry could probably break his wrist easily, regardless of Eggsys own training; lets the thought that he’s being barely tolerated keep his hand light, almost impersonal for all that the placing is intimate.

“Would you prefer me on hands and knees?” Harry asks, sounding indifferent. Eggsy wants to say something like ‘whatever’s best for you,’ but isn’t sure if he’ll be able to perform face to face. Being able to see exactly how unaffected Harry is by Eggsy, even when Eggsy’s fucking him. Then again, would taking him from behind be any better? Knowing that he wasn’t able to look his husband in the face the first time (the only time) they had sex? In the end, Eggsy says nothing, just shrugs, and Harry nods.

“This will be the easiest way to fuck,” Eggsy’s glad Harry’s looking at his face and not his cock, because hearing him, Harry, such a proper gentleman swearing, made him twitch, “But preparation might be easiest the other way.” Eggsys hand falls off Harrys leg as he turns around, propping himself up on his hands and knees. Eggsy’s hesitant to touch Harry again, but knows he has to. God, sex hasn’t ever been so complicated before. He’s good at sex, likes it, but now it’s nerve wracking.

He shuffles forward, taking his eyes off the lube he’s fumbling open, and stops dead. Because the new position, with Harrys back arched and his arse in the air, is not only breathtaking and making him hard enough to hammer nails, but Eggsy can see that Harry’s wet. Harry’s wet for him, not dripping with it, but enough to be visible, enough to get Eggsys mouth watering.

His earlier fantasy of rimming Harry, of spreading his cheeks and licking into him, is so strong that he shifts forward. He stops himself just in time, and he’s close enough that he can smell Harry, now, the low grade arousal he’d missed before, too caught up in his own head. Instead, Eggsy places a careful hand on one of the muscular cheeks and spreads Harry like he’s wanted to do since the man bent over to pick up his suit trousers. He can’t help but drop the lube to the bed and run a finger over the slick edge of Harrys rim. Harry doesn’t move away, and though he tenses up, Eggsy decides that if Harry wanted him gone he’d probably already be off the bed.

So he takes a few moments to savour the feeling of Harrys arse between his hands, the scent of Harrys arousal and his slick, before he pushes the tip of his finger in. Eggsy almost whines, Harry’s so tight. Eggsy didn’t know what he was expecting, but Harry was older than him, had probably been fucking his other mate for years, but he was still so tight. What would it take to make him gape, Eggsy wondered as he slowly worked his finger in, up to the first knuckle, the second. Would he be fucked out and loose after Eggsy knotted him? Eggsys cum leaking out of him, loose enough that Eggsy could finger him easily, enough so it’d only take a bit of work to fist him.

He slides his finger out easily, pushes two back in. He doesn’t look away from Harrys arse, not only because it’s entrancing, watching his mate stretch around his fingers, but because if he sees even the slightest hint Harry isn’t into it, wants to stop, Eggsy’ll be off the bed so fast he’ll probably trip over. While he knows, intellectually, Harry doesn’t want him, he’ll be able to continue as long as he can’t see it; he can’t force himself on someone, not even for his mother and sister. So he keeps his eyes on the way Harry’s stretching around him, on the way his hips his angle back further at every brush against his prostate.

Eggsy takes his time scissoring Harry, but eventually pulls his fingers out again, the two digits covered in Harrys slick, and can’t help the way he pushes them back in, harder than he had been, and Harry makes some sort of unclassifiable noise that Eggsy wants to hear for the rest of his life. So he does it once more, brushing Harrys prostate with force, and the mans back practically arches, fucking himself back on Eggsys fingers for one beautiful moment, before he returns to his earlier placidity, and Eggsy stops trying to fuck Harry on his fingers. Instead, he moves onto three fingers, trying to keep his touch as impersonal as it’s possible to be when you’re working your fingers in someones slick hole.

There’s the temptation, when Harry’s loose enough that Eggsy knows he won’t hurt him, to really start fucking him with his fingers, like he’d started before. Push in up to the knuckles and work his prostate, get Harry writhing underneath him, make him so wet slick starts to drip past Eggys fingers, down his hand and Harrys legs. Eggsy doesn’t, though, just brushes Harrys prostate once more before withdrawing. Before he asks Harry if he’s ready, Eggsy can’t resist the temptation to lick Harrys slick off his fingers. He breathes deep, barely stopping himself from moaning around his fingers, before shuffling back slightly so that Harry can roll over onto his back again.

He wraps a hand around the back of one of Harrys knees, pushing it up to his chest so the slick pucker Eggsy had delighted in just a few moments before was on display. He chances a look up at Harry, then, because he can’t just push in without knowing Harry’s okay with it. They lock eyes again, and Harry nods, once, very deliberately, and Eggsy positions himself at Harrys entrance.

Eggsy closes his eyes as he pushes in, the feeling of being surrounded by Harrys tight, wet heat making him want to moan; wants to let himself go and fuck Harry hard, make him turn wanton with lust, let his mouth run and tell Harry how perfect Eggsy thought he was. He keeps his silence, knowing none of that is wanted, and settled with his hips flush against Harry, buried as deep as he can go.

He waits a few moments for Harry to adjust, not able to voice an actual question lest his revolve crack, before he slides out and fucks back in, harder and rougher than he meant to, but Harry had clenched around him just before he’d thrust, and he’d lost control, just for a second. And then it’s just the in-out of thrusting, methodical, clinical. Working their way towards completion completely without passion.

Because as much as he wants to have Harrys legs over his shoulders and fuck deep into him, wants to flip them over and have Harry ride him, wants some sort of passion and heat in their joining, he knows that it’s not what Harry wants. Harry, who already has a mate that he loves, who is pregnant with his mates baby. The thought has jealousy burning through his veins, and his next few thrusts start to get harder, more intense.

Eggsy reigns himself it, knowing that his jealousy was futile. But it doesn’t stop him from wondering about what Harry was like when his Scot fucked him. Were they gentle, rocking together intimately, face to face with Harry sitting in the Scots lap; so they could trade slow, open mouthed kisses that were almost more important than the sex itself. Was Harry loud, moaning and whining and begging to be fucked, to be stuffed full of his mates cock and knot. Or was he naturally silent, the way he was with Eggsy.

Being inside Harry was good, felt great, but it wasn’t really doing anything for him. He needed something more, or he wasn’t ever going to knot, and this torture would never end. So Eggsy said goodbye to the carefully clinical way they’d been fucking, hikes Harrys leg which’d been wrapped around his hips over his shoulder, tightens his grip on the leg he had pressed to Harrys chest, and puts his back into it. After all, this is the only chance he has to fuck his mate, better make the most of it. The change in angle makes Harrys mouth part, but he still doesn’t make a sound.

It becomes Eggsys goal, to draw sound from Harry as he fucks him deep, and probably a bit too rough. He finds Harrys prostate and slams against it, which draws gasping breaths from the War Lord as Eggsy ups the pace. He can feel warmth starting to curl in his gut, now that they’re actually having sex rather than the farce they’d been doing before. Sweat’s starting to gather at Harrys temples, and Eggsy longs to bend down and lick it off, but that somehow feels more intimate than the way his balls are slapping against Harrys arse, so he doesn’t. He does lean closer to Harry, however. Lets go of the leg he’d been holding against Harrys chest, places it over his shoulder instead, and then leans in so they’re almost face to face.

That gets a noise from Harry, whether it’s from the close proximity, or how he’s still being fucked open by Eggsys cock with his knees up by his shoulders, which Eggsy knows from experience is an angle that spreads you wide, lets every thrust penetrate deeper. Eggsy wants Harry to feel it tomorrow, for days. Wants Harry to be sitting with his Scot, still feeling the way Eggsy had fucked into him, aching with it.

Harry has his head thrown back, now, throat on display and Eggsy wants to bury his teeth in Harrys neck, overlay the mate mark already in his neck with his own, show everybody that Harry’s his, now. He’s moving his hips into Eggsys thrusts as much as he can, being pinned down as he is, hands fisting the sheets, and Eggsy feels triumphant that he’s eliciting some response from his mate. That’s Harrys not simply enduring his touch, but participating, drawing pleasure from their encounter.

Eggsy can feel his knot barely starting to form, and slides a hand between them to grab Harrys cock, sliding his thumb gently over the head, before slowly stroking his hand along the shaft, a stunning contrast to the ruthless way Eggsy was fucking into his wet arse. There wasn’t a large amount of pre-cum to turn the quick hand job into a smooth glide, the rarely was with Omegas, but Harry was fairly dripping with slick, so much it was audible every time Eggsy thrust in.

Instead of licking his palm, or putting his fingers in his mouth or, more pleasurably, Harrys, he pulls out of Harry completely, leaving his puffy hole fluttering with the loss, and places his palm against Harrys entrance, grinding down slightly. Harry makes the slightest noise, Eggsy barely able to distinguish it from their breathing. Eggsy palm calm comes away wet, and he easily slides three fingers inside Harrys arse, which forces a proper moan out of Harry. Eggsys hips surge forward with the sound, but he doesn’t remove his hand and thrusts in again. Instead, he finger fucks Harry the way he’d wanted to earlier, pressing his fingers against his prostate unforgivingly, slick sliding over his knuckles, down his palm and the back of his hand. Harry didn’t make another noise, like the first one was only voiced because of the surprise, so Eggsy pulls his three fingers out, and spears four back in, pulling another cry from Harry.

Eggsy looks down at where his fingers are sliding easily into Harrys arse, and tries to commit the image to memory. He watches as he slowly slides them out, watches as Harry clenches around nothing a few times before he relaxes again. Eggsy runs one wet finger around Harrys rim, before he pressed his cock against the stretched hole and slowly pushes back in. He reaches around Harrys leg with the hand he just slicked up and grabs Harrys cock again. He settles fully into Harry, hips flush to his arse, and spends a few moments just jacking Harry off, slowly.

He runs his thumb over the head again and Harry tenses reflexively, tightening himself around Eggsy, and that’s the end of that. Eggsy leans forward again, placing his elbow on the mattress near Harrys shoulder, putting his weight on it, before he pulls out and slams back in, resuming his earlier brutal pace. He tightens his hold on Harrys cock, quickens his pace, hoping to get Harry off before he starts to knot properly, before he can’t thrust anymore and will be reduced to grinding against him.

Eggsy feels his knot start to swell, slowly. It’s not enough to stop his thrusts yet, won’t be for a few minutes, but it’s enough to be felt by Harry, who sucks in a short, sharp breath every time Eggsy pulls out past his knot and slams back in. He speeds his hand up, wanking Harry faster than the pace of his thrusts now, the older man trying to thrust up into his hand and down onto his cock, but the rhythm isn’t right, and Eggsy doesn’t feel the need to synchronise. Harry looks completely debauched like this, hair sweaty and sticking to his forehead, flush on his chest and cheeks, hips jerking erratically because he can’t decide which sensation he wants more.

It’s intoxicating, watching him, and Eggsy decides to tease him a bit. His knot’s expanded a bit more, not enough that he really has to force it past Harrys stretched rim, but enough that Harry’s almost making sound with each of those breaths he’s taking. So Eggsy pulls out until Harrys rim is stretched around his knot, and gives small, shallow thrusts, keeping Harry stretched around him. He’s still swelling, and he’d love to watch Harry stretched around his cock, skin stretching with his knot, but he likes watching Harrys face better. His mouth’s wide open, eyes scrunched shut, and Eggsy has the urge to kiss him, but refrains.

He keeps his place, lets Harry feel his knot swell and stretch him, before he slams back in hard, half swollen knot pressing right up against Harrys prostate, and Harry comes before Eggsy gets a chance to pull out again. He gives a low moan as he comes, head thrown back and throat on display again, come striping their stomachs and coating Eggsys fist. Better, he tightens around Eggsy, who’s fucking him through it as much as he can, given that his knot’s just too big to slide easily out of Harry, and trying to force it at this point would only hurt them both.

Eggsy can feel his own orgasm barreling towards him, knot continuing to swell, and he brings his hand away from Harrys sensitive, spent cock and licks at the semen and slick mixed there. The scent of it helps send him closer to the edge, mixed with the scent of his own skin as it is, but what pushes him over the edge is Harry turning his head to the right so the left side of his throat is on display, scar from his previous mating visible against his flushed skin.

Eggsy doesn’t know if he confused it for his own mark in the heat of the moment, because the sight of his mate already claimed by another shouldn’t make him come, but it does. His knot expands fully and he’s coming. He bends down further, rubbing his nose against Harrys neck in the most intimate gesture he can think of, tonguing along the mating scar, before he nudges Harrys head the other way with his dirty hand, and sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of Harrys neck, gratified when he feels Harry respond in kind, the sharp pain of the bite only enhancing his orgasm.

He bites down until he tastes blood, until he can feel himself bleeding under Harrys teeth, and pulls away. They look at each other for a moment, Eggsy still unsure about kissing his mate even though it’s now necessary, but Harry lifts his head up for a kiss and Eggsy follows his lead. His lips part easily for Harrys skilled tongue, the coppery taste of blood mixing and solidifying the new bond. Eggys hips are twitching, still coming inside his mate, knot fully engorged, and he wants to spend the time they’re tied together kissing just like this - wants to spend the rest of his life like this - the lazy, easy way their tongues glide together, so unlike the horrible way they’d moved together before.

If Eggsy was delusional, he’d say that he could feel affection in the kiss, but he knows Harry doesn’t want him, doesn’t like him. So it’s just Eggsy, then, putting his everything into the kiss, and he hopes Harry can’t understand what he’s accidentally showing through the kiss.

They keep the kiss going until Eggsy stops coming, knot starting to deflate. Eggsy’s happy about that, because otherwise they would’ve been tied together up to half hour, face to face and nothing to say to each other. Though the make out session was making his heart swell and giving him stupid ideas about love and being properly mated and having what he’s wanted his whole life, he knows better. It was just something to pass the time, to wait out the time before Harry can go back to his actual mate.

And, god, wasn’t Eggsy a stupid, love sick idiot. He had the chance to overlay the Scots claim on Harry. All he had to do was cover the mark with his own teeth, bite down and tear their bond to shreds, and he’d have Harry all to himself. That’s what his grandmother wanted, what he should have done. He’s the one who’s married to Harry, not just mated, married before the eyes of God and King alike; he should be Harrys first, proper mate.

Instead, Eggsy had turned Harrys head, bitten him on the right side of his neck, rather than his left. He’d willingly given the mark of a secondary mate, taken it too, so Harry could keep his Scot, keep his family together. He was a fucking sap, and now not only had he given Harry implicit permission to carry on with his Scot - not that Eggsy had had any delusions before that Harry’d stop just because they were married - but now Harry had legal standing to do so. He might be married to Eggsy, but the Scot was his first mate and in many places, that held precedence over marriage to a second mate. Eggsy was pretty sure in most places in Scotland, actually, they still held rigidly firm to the first mate/second mate dichotomy.

In England, it was more of a mixed bag. For starters, having two mates was rare. The only people Eggsy had ever met with two mates had been old, very old. It just wasn’t done, any more, what with marriage being between two people, only. Then again, one of the old betas he’d met, a jolly old woman, had cackled that she’d married both her mates, separately.

Not that it’d ever come to that for Eggsy, Harry and his Scot. Eggsy had done his duty, had mated and consummated his marriage, had fulfilled his grandmother's wishes, even if he’d followed the letter of her order and not the intent. Surely they wouldn’t punish his family for that? Regardless, that was a problem for another time. Right now, he needed to pull out of Harry, but if he lingered for a moment or two, Harry didn’t call him on it or push him away. The War Lord was as silent as he’d been at the start of their encounter, face slowly resetting into a calm, impenetrable façade.

Eggsy finally slid out of Harry and rolled away, staring at the ceiling rather than at Harry, as he wanted to. After a few, long, silent minutes, Harry shifted and, out the corner of his eyes, Eggsy could see his hand go up to the new mating mark he sported, on the right side of his neck, and the junction of his shoulder and neck. A tad low, should’ve been higher. It wouldn’t be seen at all when Harry was wearing a suit, not like the proper mate mark that his Scot had given him. Eggsy didn’t want to think about what a mate scar specialist would make of the placing, would probably say something about low self esteem and a low sense of self worth.

“You didn’t…” Harry trailed off, as if not sure what to say, and his hand moved away from his fresh bite to the old one, still in tact. Harry looked at him, and Eggsy reluctantly turned his head to face him as well. There was gratitude in his eyes, and Eggsy didn’t know what to feel. He’d done the right thing, done what had felt natural at the time, but he’d also essentially let any chance of being with Harry go. Any chance he had of having a family of his own, one that was truly his. Harry had his first mate and the corresponding mark to show for it. Eggsy only had a bite on the right side of his neck, and he’d read enough books to know what happened to people who didn’t have a first mate, only a second.

Eggsy felt himself get fidgety, watching Harry slowly caress his proper mate mark in an undeniably loving, intimate way. So he got off the bed, grabbed his pants from the floor, pulled his trousers on after them. He’d just shoved himself into his shirt when Harry sat up.

“Gary,” He started, and Eggsy frowned, still facing away from Harry, shrugging artlessly into his jacket. He didn’t need to hear this, hear Harry tell him that, though they were mated and married, Harry didn’t want him. Was going to return to the life he had with the Scot, and there was no place for Eggsy in it. It even sounded wrong, Harry and Gary. So Eggsy did what had served him best through the course of his life, and cut his losses first.

“Yeah. I had fun, too. See you round.” Then he grabbed his shoes, socks tucked inside, and was out the door before Harry could respond, or see how heartbroken he was. Just because he was a stupid idiot who couldn’t get hold of his emotions, doesn’t mean he has to let everyone know. He’ll find some spare guest room to spend the night in, let Harry spend the night in ‘their’ room. Or maybe he got dressed and left straight after Eggsy did, going straight to his Scot. Maybe they were together in the bed Eggsy had just fucked Harry in, erasing his scent from Harrys skin so it was like he’d never been.

Either way, it didn’t matter. He'd agreed to this, and now he just had to live out the consequences. Away from his family, alone in a cold bed, in an unfamiliar room, Eggsy prepared to spend the rest of his life alone and miserable.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin, not his birth name but the one he went by in England all the same, has never been particularly attached to the English crown. That is to say, Merlin supported the Scottish crown, and his uncle who sat on it. Was a bit of a predicament when he wandered down from the highlands to spy on the English only to fall in love with their War Lord, but his uncle’s a good man. When Merlin’d come home to let him know he’d failed, because he’d fallen in love and couldn’t deceive his love like that, his uncle Conall had thrown his head back and laughed.

“Aye, you’re a good lad.” He’d said, grinning at him across the table as his other uncles exchanged coin.

“Don’t look so off, lad.” His uncle Bran said when he noticed Merlin looking. “We dinnae bet if you’d fail, just if you’d lose yer heart.” And so his king had given him permission to return to the side of his love, his mate, and not worry about thwarting the English crown's attempts at Scotland. Merlin still worried, of course, but he didn't spy on his mate, didn’t send information back, even if he did meet with other Scots he knew, occasionally, to know what was happening in the highlands. And if sometimes they were able to infer information from the things he said, well, none of it was _especially_ confidential, and none of it learnt via Harry.

And so Merlin had lived in England with his mate for over a decade and was pleased with his lot in life.

And then, as if to mock the way he’d dismissed them because they’d never get Scotland, the crown does _this_.

He wants to tear them apart with his bare hands. Wants to write to his uncle and call the wrath of Scotland down on them. Hell, he wanted to let it slip that the crown was forcefully ending matings, and warm his hands by the explosion that knowledge would cause. He was at his desk, inking his quill and three paragraphs from ending the current English/Scottish truce, when Harry laid a hand on his shoulder. He kissed the back of Merlin's neck and said the only thing that could have stopped him:

“I’m with child.” If they did not adhere to the plan laid out by the mother of the king, the Lady Unwin, they would likely end up losing the child, one way or another. Either by sabotage from the lady herself, or because the stress of being War Lord in an active war would be too much. He spends the night, every night for the next week, curled around Harry. He does not want to let his mate go, knows both their hearts are breaking at the decision, but this is their child, and they'd not do anything to jeopardise its health.

So he lets Harry go and meet with the proper English lad they’ve chosen to replace him as Harry's Alpha, rather than saddling their horses and riding to his uncles halls in the highlands, burning England around him as he goes.

He should have listened to his mother and taken Harry to Scotland with him the first chance he got. But Harry loved his country so, and though Merlin loved the highlands, it was just a place, and Harry was his everything. Except, now, Harry was to be someone elses. Lady Unwin best stay out of his way, or else he’ll have to flee to escape being hung for murder.

  
-

Harry walks back in much calmer than he’d left, and he’s even smiling.

Merlin feels jealousy burn like acid in his gut. Was his mate so pleased with his replacement?

No, he should not think of Harry so, knows his Omega is faithful to him, loves him, but it does not stop his irrational fears. Fears he’d never had before, but now he knew he had to lose Harry, it was like every dreadful stereotype about Alphas was trying to possess him at once.

“Pretty Alpha?” He asks, and that was not what he meant to open with, he had wanted to ask how it went, but his tongue is as filled with jealousy as his stomach and his own failings to protect his mate from this turns the acid to bile in his throat.

“Yes, actually.” Harry says, and Merlin wants to hit something in a way he very rarely does. He is not a violent man, that’s Harry, not him. He prefers his workshop, and planning, and espionage work, like he’d been set to England for.

“Not that it matters.” He’s caught onto Merlin's feelings, then, and it feels like he can’t do anything right lately. But Harry just smiles and cradles his face with a broad palm.

“He’ll never be you, but he’s not completely reprehensible, as we’d imagined. Actually, you’d probably like him.”

Merlin doubts that very much.

“In fact,” Harry continues, “When the Lady Unwin told him not to worry and that our baby would, of course, be aborted before he mated me-” He does not get to finish, because Merlin brushes past Harry and makes his way to the door, reaching for the sword he rarely uses as he goes.

How _dare_ that woman. Merlin would cut her head from her body and take Harry back to Scotland. His uncle would declare war for this, he knew, even though he’d tried very hard for peace. This was an outrage he would not let stand, that _no_ decent human could let stand.

Harry wraps one strong arm around his waist and restrains him. There’s no struggle between them, for all that they are closely matched in strength and height, because Harry is his mate and, even in a rage as he was, he’d never raise a hand towards him in anger. And now that he’s with child, there would no sparring or grappling of any kind.

“Yes, his reaction was similar. I thought he was going to flip the table we were sitting at, or reach across and slap Lady Unwin across the face.” Harry chuckled, and that sound more than anything helped to calm him down. He would not be chuckling if he thought their child in danger.

“He said I could abort if I chose, but that no one had the right to take the decision away from me. Well, somewhat less eloquently, but that was the intent.” Maybe Harry was right, he could find himself getting along with the unknown Alpha. Well, were it not for the situation and the fact that he wants to beat the man into a bloody pulp.

They stand there like that, Harry embracing Merlin from behind while the Scot takes comfort from his mates presence, for a long while. Eventually they retire to the bed, even though it’s only late afternoon, and use their ever shortening time to bask in each other.

“We are to mate in three days.” Harry whispers into the silence, and Merlin holds him tighter in response.

“I’ll come back to you.” He promises, and Merlin takes comfort in it, even though he knows it cannot be. Harry is nothing if not loyal, and once this other Alpha marks him, claims him, Harry will feel honour bound to him, regardless of his own feelings. He might come back to Merlin, yes, but it won’t be the same. Perhaps, once their bairn is born, they can run off together.

“I know, mo chridhe.”

-

He does not mean to see the other Alpha, the one who’s to replace him, does not want to. Doesn’t want to know who’s gonna be touching his mate when he can’t kill them for it. Except Charlie, English prick that he is, had pointed the Alpha out to his friends just as Merlin was walking by. And what could he do, but look?

And, aye, he’s a pretty one. Gorgeous.

Merlin may want to make him significantly less pretty, wants to beat him until he knows that Harry won’t ever belong to him because he’s Merlin's.

Merlin continues on his way without lingering, without taking a second look. Because no matter how pretty, he doesn't hold Harry's heart. Except when he’s alone in bed that night, he imagines the pretty Alpha running his hands all over his Harry, replacing Merlin's mark with his own, and he wishes he did not know, still. Because he hadn’t seen the lad close up, but even from a distance Merlin could see that he was so far removed from Merlin as day from night. It could have been a comfort, to know that Harry could not confuse them, that this boy who’ll separate them is nothing like Harry chose for himself. It is not.

Merlin had never been one for cold comforts, not when he had Harry to warm him, and thinking that maybe Harry’s displeased with his new mate is cold indeed.  
But, perhaps, Harry does not mind him too much. He’d called him pretty, after all, and Merlin knew his mate liked fine things.

He does not sleep, and tries not to doubt that his love will come back to him in the morning.

-

Harry comes back to their rooms just after dawn; just Merlin's rooms, now. Harry’ll likely stay with his pretty new Alpha. Who’s gorgeous, and young and English - everything his beautiful mate deserves in a partner. Well, the English bit is debatable, but he knows what the rest of the gentry think.

And not his mate anymore, either. His Harry still, always, but not his mate.

He doesn’t sit on the bed, and Merlin aches to hold him, but refrains. Harry looks a bit shocked, and if he finds the other Alpha has hurt him, no one will ever find his body.

Instead, Harry unbuttons his collar and tilts his head to the left so Merlin can see the raised, red bite on the right side of his neck.

The… right side?

“I cannae believe it.” Merlin can barely get the words out through the lump forming in his throat. Maybe he _could_ come to like the other Alpha, because what he’s done… it’s unbelievable.

A pretty boy with a pretty heart.

“Mo chridhe.” Harry strips off his clothes and finally crawls into their bed, because it is still their bed, because Harry is still his and he could cry with with relief. He doesn’t even mind the scent that lingers on his mates skin; everything about having Harry in his arms feels like a benediction, even with the scent of sex and other Alpha. He does not even try to erase the scent, as he thought he would, because why would he?

There is no challenge from a second mate to a first.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry’s still a bit out of it the next day - week. More. His mind’s a mess, actually. Because he didn’t want to lose Merlin, never wanted to lose Merlin, but… didn’t Gary want him? Was he not good enough for his new husband? Marking him as second, so he can pass off all responsibility to Harry's other Alpha, so he doesn’t have to care; he could find a first mate, someone he actually wants.

And, oh, hadn’t he left as soon as he could. Practically ran out the door, didn’t even bother to button his shirt. Harry doesn’t even know where Gary slept, all he knows is that he waited for him to come back, and he never did. He feels absolutely foolish about waiting for Gary to come back, but leaving would have felt worse. Just because they’re husbands and mates, doesn’t preclude that they have feelings for each other. Obviously not, because Gary made him a second mate when the young man doesn’t even have a first.

He should not be troubled by this, by not being wanted by a young man Harry had been planning on running away from, anyway. Lady Unwin had rather shown her hand when she’d announced the baby would be aborted, and in the few seconds before Gary had protested, he’d begun to plan. Gary had bought him some leeway, without which he would have already disappeared, but he needs firm plans to keep his baby safe, and Gary was not included in them. He’d have gone to Scotland with Merlin at the first rumblings of this farce, except his mate tries not to talk about his home, and Harry would not force painful remembrances on him. So he needs time to find somewhere safe. He’s been planning on leaving Gary since before he set eye on him, and yet...

He tries to hide his turmoil from Merlin, because he doesn’t want the man to think he’s not enough - he’s more than enough; Harry's never wanted for more. Except now he wants to curl around both his mates in the evenings instead of one. Wants to know where Gary goes instead of to the rooms they should be sharing, because his scent is fading from it. He’s not been there since he made his escape a fortnight ago. Maybe it’s just his hormones, why he feels like this, maybe something left over from the mating or from pregnancy.

Why should he be pining so for this boy who does not want him when he has a mate that does, one who loves him with every fibre of his being? It’s because of this love, though, that he cannot hide himself from Merlin for long.

“What’s upset you, so?” his Alpha asks one evening, when they’re laying in front of the fireplace, a large hand resting over Harry's still flat stomach. Harry tries to deflect, but Merlin won’t have it and he’s never been able to lie to his mate, would never want to, so it takes but a few moments before it spills out.

“Why doesn’t he want me?” Harry doesn’t mean to say it like that, but that’s the way it comes out. It’s what it all boils down to, anyway, isn’t it? He’s upset and ashamed that he’s not good enough for his husband, his mate. Had Gary been utterly reprehensible in manner, in form, in heart, would he have this problem? But Gary, as far as he could tell in their regrettably brief interactions, was a good man.

And Harry was not enough for him.

“What makes you think so? I know for a fact you’re irresistible.” Merlin tells him, but Harry finds he cannot abide the teasing at this moment.

“Not to him.” He feels Merlin tense against him, and regrets that he could not halt his words, that he did not truly want to. He wants to share his mind, his troubles, with Merlin as he had done almost since he met the man. Except, this was one thing they could not face together. It was cruel, was it not, to tell his mate that he wanted another, and yet he was doing exactly that.

No wonder Gary did not want him, he was callous, and violent besides. It was a wonder Merlin wanted him, still. He had seen the worst of Harry, after all. Harry returning splattered with the blood of those he’d cut down on the field, regretting not a moment of it in service of his country and his king. Harry at his proudest, at his angriest; at his least gentlemanly.

“I saw him watch you, out in the yard. He did not look upon you as if you’re unwanted.” Loathe as he was to admit it, the only time he’d seen the Alpha the man had been looking at Harry. He was not close enough to see the fine details of his face, or his expression, but Merlin knows it’s hard to look upon Harry with anything but fondness.

“But you did not see him when-” Harry cuts himself off, mid thoughtless remark. He’s not used to censoring himself around Merlin, the way he does in company, because Merlin is his mate and he has never had to. But if he was to tell this to Merlin, he could no longer call himself a gentleman.

“Harry, a ghràdh.” Merlin prods, but Harry will stay firm. He does not want to hurt his mate in anyway, and talking about this… No, best not. If only his mate agreed, however, Harry could wallow in his misery on his own, rather than drag his dear Scot down with him.

“Please, Harry.” There are few things in this world that Harry cannot say no to; Merlin asking him in that tone of voice is one of them. Harry takes a breath, then another, before saying,

“You did not see him when he touched me, Merlin. You were not there when he looked at me and could find nothing appealing.” Merlin had tensed, again, but he also scoffed.

“I doubt that, goal, very much. But tell me your worries, and I will help clear them from your mind. For how could he not see you and see perfection?” Harry contemplated this for a second, before giving in. Merlin will get his way in this eventually, and the sooner he does it, the sooner they can move away from this subject. Maybe all he needs is to talk it out, and then he can be content. He should not need or want Gary; hopefully Merlin can talk him to his senses. His mate’s rather good at it, after all. Still,

“I am not sure I can say. Even to you. ...It shames me.” And it does. Harry had lain upon the bed, nude and spread for his husband, and when he looked Gary had been looking away, soft. He had had to close his eyes and touch himself before he was able to touch Harry, so repulsive did the younger man find him. He wonders who Gary thought about, when he had found Harry wanting. There had been a moment when Harry had felt his heart stutter in his chest, for Gary had looked at him from where he knelt on the bed, cock in hand and fire in his eyes. It felt real, in that moment, as if they would truly be mated, and he’d felt himself starting to get wet. Even the memory of that moment made his heart speed up.

Harry could not help but spread himself further when Gary had moved up the bed, and finds himself flushing in shame at his wantonness, remembering it while cuddling with Merlin. He’s done more shameless things with Merlin, of course, but to have been so eager to welcome somebody else between his legs feels like a betrayal - to want it again...

“You smell like arousal.” Merlin rumbles at him from where he’s got his face buried in Harry's neck. Harry has nothing to say to that.

“Was he so good?” Harry cannot help but laugh, for though watching Gary approach him while in such a vulnerable position had indeed aroused him greatly, half of their joining had been mediocre, and he tells Merlin as such.

“Feeling his hand on my leg was good, and the way he parted me was… indescribable.” He tells Merlin, and his love noses at the bite on his neck, and a thrill shoots through Harry for it’s Gary's mark he’s paying attention to, whilst they talking about Gary fucking him.

“But then he fingered me like it was a chore, taking no pleasure from it.” He does not tell Merlin that offering to get on his hands and knees for Gary had made him so wet he’d almost been dripping, and how he’d almost begged when Gary had caressed his rim, barely restraining himself.

“Tell me.” Merlin's accent has gotten thicker, the way it does when he’s angry… or aroused. He’s not sure which Merlin is, yet, but he’ll find out soon enough.

“He teased me, with the first finger, and…” Here Harry trails of, he cannot help the blush that stains his cheeks, though he knows he’s too old to blush.

“Aye, I know what you’re like.” Merlin shifts, slightly, and then he’s pressed up against Harry. Not angry, then.

“And then he seemed to lose all interest. He was good at it, but there was nothing behind it.” Harry had been inexplicably disappointed, at the time, that their coupling would be so bland.

“That’s disappointing. From the look of him, you’d think he’d know how to properly fuck someone gorgeous.” Harry didn’t bother to argue the point that Gary didn’t find him gorgeous, instead taking the time to continue his internal debate on whether or not he should tell Merlin everything or let his mate believe that the entire encounter was sub par. Then Merlin says,

“Tell me everything,” and slides his hand down Harry's chest until his hand rests on the waistband of his trousers, and Harry’s made up his mind.

“Technically proficient, I would venture to say.” Harry recounted as Merlin untucked his shirt. “But you know I’ve never been overly fussed about that.” Sexually, at least. As War Lord, it was an entirely different manner.

“Aye, you’re all about the passion.” Merlin kisses his neck, right over the still healing bite, and Harry tilts his neck to give Merlin more access. The feeling of lips over the wound is heavenly, though he wishes it were a different pair of lips.

“He had it, for a second. Fucked me on his fingers like he wanted to,” like he wanted Harry, “did it just the way I liked, so well it could’ve been you.” He receives a small nip in reprimand, but it has the opposite effect, and Harry offers up more of his neck.

“And then?” Merlin prompts after a few moments wherein all Harry does is bask in Merlin's attention and his own memories.

“He continues on without heat, for he does not desire me.” He ignores Merlin's scoff, continues, “When he pressed into me, he could not even look at me, I repulse him so. I cannot help but wonder who he thought of… his first thrust felt so good I thought maybe he just did not enjoy using his fingers.” Merlin's slips a hand into Harry's trousers and grasps his half hard cock.

“Except there was no more passion, he fucked me as if it was distasteful to him.” He could feel Merlin frown against his neck, hand stopping its movement on Harry's cock at the perceived slight against his mate. “I think he must have been trying to think of someone else because sometimes he would fuck me harder, wilder, for a moment before continuing like… like…” He cannot even find words to explain the way Gary had touched him; clinical, maybe, but that lacked the edge of distaste Harry had seen.

“And then something changed, everything changed, and it was like he wanted me.” Merlin relaxes against him again, moving his hand slowly over Harry's cock.

“How could he not want you? I’ve seen you when you’re spread out like that, what you look like when I’m fucking you; irresistible.” He bites Harry neck again, harder, and it’s sure to leave a mark.

“Regardless of what you think, my love, I am not the Omega people dream about.” And it’s true, he wasn’t. More Alpha than Omega in disposition and temperament, unwilling to behave in the manner appropriate for a high born Omega. His mother had despaired of him until his father had put a sword in his hand; the intent had been to show Harry that an Omega had a place and a purpose. It had backfired, for from the first second Harry hefted a sword, he found his life's calling. And though his parents had been reluctant, his father knew talent when he saw it and trained him.

Now, he’s War Lord and Omega; powerful, influential and one of a kind. But he was not what young Alphas dreamed of when they thought mate. They wanted something soft and approachable, a traditional Omega.

Something Harry could never be.

He would not change himself for anyone. He did not change for his parents, or his friends or the court, and he would not change for Gary, regardless of how much he wanted to be wanted.

Merlin draws him from his melancholy thoughts with a soft squeeze of his cock and a gruff,

“They’re all fools.” Harry huffs a laugh at his mates typical reaction. Merlin wasn’t quite the typical Alpha, either. Then again, perhaps in Scotland, he was. “So that’s it, then?” Merlin prompts, and Harry doesn’t even try to censure his words.

“He spent the last half of our encounter fucking me stupid, actually. Even you could not fault him for it.”

Harry does not add that Merlin should watch, next time, for there won’t be a next time. It does not stop the idea from taking root, though. Both his mates in the same room, the same bed. Had Merlin been there, he could have shown Gary how to touch him from the start, and the whole of the tryst could have been like the end. Would Merlin have been content to watch and speak, or would he have drawn in closer, used his large hands to move Gary until he was satisfied?

There is almost no question; of course Merlin would have touched him. Perhaps even pressed a possessive kiss to the back of Gary's neck, the way he was doing to Harry now.

It is a pleasing thought, both of his mates. Fucking him, fucking each other. All three of them together. They’d make a wonderful portrait.

“Well, if you say I cannae fault the lad it must be true.” Harry rolls his eyes at Merlin's teasing, though he is glad to hear it. Glad that Merlin can listen to him talk about his other mate and not burn with anger, can tease him about it. Can find arousal in listening about it, though whether it’s from the thought of Harry being well fucked or from the thought of Gary fucking Harry, he doesn’t know.

“And there was… he did…” Harry blushes to think on it, about how Gary had stopped fucking him, just when it was starting to turn him boneless, to use his fingers. Gary had stretched him, played with him; speared him open with four fingers, the weight of his thumb when he pressed in to the knuckles electrifying him with the promise of more.

“He stopped fucking you to tease you?” Merlin says, astounded, and Harry can feel the grin stretching across his face from where his head’s still pressed against the new mark. “You’re right, I do like him.” Merlin announces, and Harry cannot help the warm surge of affection he feels towards them both, despite Eggsy's absence.

“You’ll like this part,” Harry says, as if he can’t feel how Merlin’s been enjoying his detailed descriptions, “He started to knot and used it to fuck me open further, used it to stretch me open and keep me that way.” Harry’d been knotted before, of course, but when Merlin starts to swell he tends to abandon the deep, penetrating thrusts and bury himself as deeply inside Harry as he can, grinding his growing knot against Harry's prostate until he’s incomprehensible with it, until he’s over sensitive and almost crying, so far gone that all he can do is sob and try to work himself further onto Merlin's cock, even though there’s nothing more to take.

But he’d never felt a knot expand in such a way before, swelling and stretching his rim as it did, to the point where it was riding the edge between pain and pleasure so delightfully. Every movement Gary had made had tugged at him, made him want for more, though he could not say of what. He just wanted more, the way everyone who gets fucked well wants more, and Gary gave it to him. Fucking into him, forcing his swelled knot into him, Harry was almost blindsided by his orgasm. He’d closed his eyes at some point and when he managed to open them, Gary was licking Harry's come off his hand.

He’d have spread his legs wider, if they hadn’t already been positioned and pinned in the way Gary wanted, so instead he did the only other thing he could to express how much he wanted, did what feels natural when he’s getting fuck so good by his mate, and Harry had turned his head.

Too late had he realised, in his blissed out daze, that Gary was not his mate and he’d shown Gary his neck, given him permission to erase Merlin's mark. He’d intended to make it as difficult as possible for Gary, show him that he was unwanted, that Harry loved Merlin, loved his mate, and any replacement would not be welcome or wanted. It seems laughable, now, that those had been his plans, when he’s currently sitting on the floor with Merlin, talking about how well Gary fucked him, in enough detail that they’re both hard and writhing against each other.

And, perhaps where all the trouble and turmoil in his mind had started, if he wanted to try and find a definite place that wasn’t buried in the haze of sex and physical lust, was when Gary had leant forward and instead of forcing a bite Harry didn’t want, he’d nuzzled into his neck, similar to what Merlin was doing now.

Gary’d run his nose from the base of Harrys neck, over Merlins mark, and up to the hollow underneath Harrys ear. And then he’d turned Harrys head for him and cemented Harrys confusion.

Because he did not want Gary as his mate instead of Merlin, did not want a mating forced on him, but there was a knot of hurt and confusion in his gut when he’d realised that Gary had taken him as second mate.

Perhaps something of his mothers teachings had found purchase in his mind, somewhere.

He pushes it out of his mind, however, as Merlin presses bruising bites over Garys mark, possessive in a way that Merlin sometimes tried to pretend he wasn’t. Harry can’t help but moan aloud the way he very rarely does, because the wound’s still sensitive, seems like it’s got a direct connection to his cock. He’d forgotten, having taken Merlins mark so many years ago, how even the slightest press against it could have him whining for his mate.

And he does whine for his mate, except, he doesn’t call for the one in the room.

Merlin freezes, pausing with his teeth pressing directly over the bite, the stimulation which had caused him to forget himself. Harry doesn’t actually register what’s wrong until Merlin pulls away and says,

“You want him here.”

He doesn’t get a chance to respond, before Merlin bites back down on his shoulder, his neck, harder than necessary. In a few hours, the right side of Harrys neck will likely be a mess of hickeys and bruising. Harry cannot help but whine and press his arse back against Merlins cock, no longer caring about the hand against his own hardness. Merlin removes his hand, using it to shove Harrys trousers and pants just past the swell of his arse, so that his wet hole is revealed, slick leaking, so great is his arousal. The Scot, still mercilessly abusing Harrys neck, almost rips the laces on his own trousers in his haste to undo them and draw himself out.

It is the work of but a moment to roll Harry onto his stomach, to tug him to his hands and knees in the position that so excites him, the shame he feels at his preference for the traditional, subservient Omega pose only heightening his arousal. In doing so, however, Merlin has to reluctantly let go of Harrys neck, lest he accidentally bite too hard and truly hurt him. This gives Harry a brief chance to scramble for his wits, and he takes it, needing to tell Merlin that it doesn’t mean anything, that he’d said Gary's name whilst he was with Merlin. He loves _Merlin_ , wants Merlin like no other. It’s just, they were talking of Gary, and he was thinking about Gary - thinking about Gary and him, about Gary and them; fantasising.

Before he gets a chance to vocalise this, however, Merlin grabs the globe of his ass cheek in one broad palm, spreads Harry wide and thrusts home in one quick, sure movement that has Harry gasping for breath and, unthinkingly, says,

“I want to see you fuck him.”

Merlin pauses, still deep in Harrys slick hole, before running a hand up Harrys back, under his shirt, skin on skin.

“Dae ye, now?” Harry shivers at both the caress and the deep, low Scottish brogue.

“Yes.” He breathes out, as Merlin pulls out and slides back in, slowly. He runs his hand up and down Harry's back once more, before he wraps his hand around Harry's hip and bends down so they’re flush together, chest to back. He places his other hand on the ground to support his weight, and Harry squirms in anticipation. Merlin places a soft kiss to the back of Harry's neck, before he shifts and places a soft kiss on what he can reach of his own mating mark, before returning to the right side of Harry's neck.

“Tha’ all ye want? Tell me.” He punctuates with a nip over where a bruise is already forming, and Harry squirms against him. Merlin doesn’t move apart from that, though, one hand firm on Harrys hip so he can’t even fuck back against Merlin, and the Scot is content to wait.

“No.” Harry finally says, and is rewarded with a shallow thrust.

“I want to watch him fuck you, watch you fuck each other.” Merlin kisses his neck again, starting up a slow rhythm than Harry knows will drive him insane soon enough.

“And?” Merlin asks, knows that’s not the end of it, and Harry’s torn. He knows this game, loves it; given the chance, Merlin will fuck him like this for hours, bring him to the edge again and again before he finally lets Harry come. But right now all he wants is for Merlin to use him, wants to feel it when he’s in the training yard tomorrow so he knows he hasn’t ruined anything. He knows what to say to spur the game on, and how to end it, but he’s not sure which what he has to say will do. But he hopes if he words it right, says it right, Merlin will press his face into the soft rug that covers the floor in front of their fire and fuck him till Harry’s crying into the weave.

“I want you to watch as Gary fucks me, watch as he fingers me and fists me and fucks me til I’m raw.” Harry feels out of breath saying it, barely daring to breath as he waits for Merlins response. He doesn’t have to wait long, for Merlin stops his slow, easy thrusts almost instantly.

“I ken ye, Harry. I ken what ye want.” He says, lips brushing softly against Harrys skin as he does so.

“An I’ll give you what you want, mo chridhe.” He says and gently, so gently that Harry's heart hurts with it, he helps Harry down until he’s cheek’s pressed into the carpet, arms braced above him. The change in position feels wonderful, back arched. His arse would be on display, hole wet and leaking, if he wasn’t already stuffed full of Merlin's cock, which only manages to slide deeper with the change.

Merlin places a series of chaste, closed mouthed kisses along his clothed shoulders and down as much of Harry's spine he can reach without pulling out, before straightening up again, looking down at Harry's prone form from where he’s kneeling above him. Merlin pushes his own trousers down further, so that they mirror the position of Harry's pants, waistband tucked under his arse, fabric still clinging to firm thighs. One hand returns to its place on Harry's hip, the other to the right side of Harry's neck, over the new marking and all the bites and bruises Merlin’s just given him. The pressure makes Harry whine again, squirming against Merlin's hold, but the Scot doesn’t let him move, just keeps him speared on his cock, spread out in front of him.

He had not lied, before, when he said Harry looked irresistible like this.

“Remember,” Merlin begins, as he always does before they start like this, when Harry’s barely holding it together and needs Merlin to keep him in once piece; when Harry needs to be owned in a way he would normally rebel against.

“I know.” Harry interrupts, quietly. Every time he hears Merlin tell him it’s okay to want to stop, and it’s okay to need to keep going, just as long as he’s comfortable, he feels ashamed. He’s spent his entire life doing everything an Omega shouldn’t do, fills his life with violence and blood, rejecting the traditional notions of what an Omega should do, only to need this. And he does need it; needs to feel Merlin pinning him down, taking what he wants and using Harry without thought. Needs to feel helpless, out of control. And Merlin, his dear Merlin, gives him what he needs without question, without judgement.

How could he even think of wanting anyone else, of needing anyone else, when he had Merlin?

“Alright. Cha bhi beud ort, mo chridhe.” Merlin's thumb sweeps across the back of Harry's neck in a gentle glide, before his fingers settle firmly around the base of his neck, the top of his shoulder.

He slides easily out of Harry, pauses, and then snaps his hips forward, hard enough that Harry has to brace himself against the carpet. He establishes a brutal pace, not concerning himself with whether he’s bring Harry pleasure, though he knows he is; they’ve been together long enough that he doesn’t have to think about how to please Harry, his body already know the way.

It doesn’t take long before Harry’s completely lax beneath him, truly sprawled out, only remaining upright because of Merlin's hands on his hip and shoulder. His grip is bruising, and he pulls Harry back into his thrusts, delighting in the whines forced out of Harry's throat every time he slams home. Merlin loses himself in the wild rhythm, barely paying attention when Harry comes, when he starts to cry; when he gets so over sensitive that he’s trying to move away from Merlin's thrusts instead of into them. Merlin keeps his grip firm, keeps using Harry like this is all he’s worth, because Harry’s still underneath him, hasn’t put an end to it for all he’s trying to get away.

He feels his knot start to swell, thinks of what Harry had told him about his other Alpha - Harry called him Gary, before, when he was trying to egg Merlin on; it’s the first time he’s heard his name - about how he was bold enough to fuck Harry with his knot. Merlin does not try it, though, knows neither of them are in the right frame of mind for such a thing. Instead he presses his hips flush against Harry's arse, holds him in place as he grinds down, as Harry starts to sob at the direct stimulation of his prostate, until they’re tied firmly together.

He stops grinding down as he comes, stops trying to work his way further into his mate. He rubs at Harry's trembling back, long soothing strokes to help calm him down a bit before gently lowering himself to Harry's back. It takes a bit of time to move them so they’re spooning again, with Harry being completely limp and Merlin trying not to move where he’s tied with Harry. Eventually, though, they’re laying down in front of the fireplace again, the way they started the night. The fire’s lower, now, but it’ll last well enough for the time they’re tied.

He wraps his arms around his mate, hugs him close. Kisses his neck and the bruises Merlin left, nudges the hollow behind his ear with his nose, breaths in the scent of his mate before pressing a kiss there too. Merlin uses the edge of his sleeve to dry Harry's face, wipe away the tears, the saliva. They breath together, perfectly in sync for a moment, before Merlin starts to talk to him, to ground him.

“Tha gaol agam ort. Cho saoidh, mi fear-taighe. Cho saoidh. Tha gaol agam ort, gaol, tha mo ghion ort. Luaidh mo chèile…” He’s found it doesn’t matter too much what he says, as how he says it, so Merlin whispers words of love to his mate, voice soft and full of affection. Reinforces that he loves Harry, that he needs him. Things he’s told Harry thousands of times over, that he will tell him a thousand times more.

Harry comes back to himself bit by bit, and before Merlin knows it Harry’s stroking his hand, whispering back to him. When they finally untie, Merlin strips Harry of his soiled clothes and carries him to bed. Harry falls asleep quickly, content in Merlin's embrace, but the Scot remains awake for some time after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have on the kink meme so far; the next update will be soonish, probably. <3 Let me know if I've missed any typos, I can't beta my own work for shit.
> 
>  
> 
> So, guess who’s an aspiring linguist? Anyway, stumbled across some reputable Gàidhlig-English dictionaries. Hope the trans. is okay, I’m more of a Slavic language person. So:  
> Tha gaol agam ort - I love you.  
> Cho saoidh - so good.  
> Mi fear-taighe - my husband.  
> Gaol - love.  
> Tha mo ghion ort - I love you with all my heart.  
> Luaidh mo chèile - love of my life.  
> Cha bhi beud ort - you’ll be fine/are going to be alright
> 
> Some might be a bit off since i had to phrase them myself. *throws confetti* LANGUAGES.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a while longer than I'd expected, but I was having trouble figuring out what I wanted to do, and how long I wanted to draw the story out. There should be a few more chapters left, I know what I'm doing for once. There is plot, and points and scenes I want to get to. :) I think the angst is almost done here, just another chapter or two and then resolution and happiness and joy.

Eggsy spends the next week after fleeing from his appointed bed chambers and new mate avoiding his grandmother. What Eggsy’d really like to do is go home; his actual home, back where he grew up, not the over large castle he’s currently residing in. Kiss his mum on the cheek, pick his little sister up and swing her around. Instead he’s ducking into unused rooms whenever he hears someone approach, no matter who they are - cause it’d be just his luck that he’d duck away from his grandmother only to run into Harry or his Scot.

His hiding eventually takes him to the stables, which he finds is quite a good hiding spot. Up in the loft, among the hay. So good, in fact, he falls asleep. He jerks awake some time later, the sunlight soft and golden as it shines through the windows, and finds he’s lost most of the day. Not that he really had anything to do; his grandmother had hinted at etiquette classes and the like, but he hasn’t seen her since so he doesn’t know for sure. Hasn’t stayed still long enough for her to pin him down and force him to go. He listens for a few moments, but can’t hear anyone in the stables, so he climbs down from the hay bales and out into the open.

Which, with his luck, means that’s when a blonde woman looks over from where she’s quietly grooming her horse.

Fuck his life.

“Hello.” She says, politely, and Eggsy reluctantly drags his manners up from where he’d shoved them upon meeting his grandmother. He responds in kind, and thinks maybe he can make a break for it. She chooses that moment to walk out of the stall, putting down the horse brush as she goes and picking up her riding crop from the bench.

“Are you allowed to be in here?” She inquires, which is a fair point. He knows he looks like shit, and he’d just tried to stealthily climb down from the hayloft of the stable.

“Yeah.” He says, not sure how to prove it. She _hmms_ at him, but obviously decides to let it slide.

“I am Roxanne Morton.” She tells him, and holds out her hand. Eggsy shakes it, cringes half a second too late because she’s a lady, ain’t she? He was supposed to kiss her hand or the like, not shake it.

“Gary. Call me Eggsy, though.” He says, because someone should. He’s been called Gary enough since he got here that he never wants to hear it again. He doesn’t add a surname like she had, because he’s got no clue if he’s got one or not. He didn’t have Unwin, being a bastard - though he could have said something like Fitzroy, imagining the heart attack that would give his grandmother is almost worth it - but with his marriage, was he now a Hart? He should have asked, maybe, but it’s too late for it now.

“You may call me Roxy.” She tells him with a smile, and he can’t help but smile back.

“What brings you to the palace?” She asks and Eggsy shrugs.

“Got married and mated an’ all that.” She nods, before she says,

“I am unmated myself, actually, though my father keeps encouraging me to do so. To whom have you bound yourself to?” She asks as they walk towards the entrance.

“Harry. Lord Hart, I mean.” He really didn’t mean to be so familiar, but Harry had said he could, and he didn’t particularly want to stop.

“Really?” She asks, surprised, and Eggsy nods. If it’d been a normal marriage, he might’ve seen her at the ceremony. But it was a small one, secret, with only his mum, sister and grandmother in attendance. Probably worried Harry would spill the beans about everything if they had witnesses.

“You know ‘im?” He asked her, and she nodded.

“Lord Hart is my uncle, actually.” She said pleasantly, and Eggsy blinks. He’s not sure who knows and who doesn’t know, but if it gets out that it’s a farce marriage and mating, he’d fucked. And since she hadn’t been at the wedding, Eggsy’s betting she’s got no clue.

“I’d rather thought Uncle was mated to Merlin.” That must be the name of the Scot, and Eggsy carefully files it away, even as he smiles and nods. Presents a careful facade that everything is normal.

“He is.” Eggsy says, and Roxy raises an eyebrow at him, tapping the riding crop against her leg. It’s rather intimidating, but Eggsy’s had the shit kicked out of him before and getting his arse handed to him by a proper Lady wouldn’t hurt his pride none, the way it might other some Alphas. So he doesn’t pay the crop much attention, instead focusing on her face.

He sees her looking at the left side of his neck before, almost hesitantly, looking at the right. There’s the smallest sliver of a slowly healing mate mark visible, he knows, because he spends what feels like hours looking at it in the mirror each morning. None of his collars cover it quite well enough, but no one looks at the right side of his neck for a mate mark. They all assume it’s on his left, hidden as is proper.

Except if Eggsy wasn’t wearing shirts with the highest collars he could find, if he was wearing what he would at home and none of this posh shite, the whole world would be able to see it. He looks at in the mirror and feels shame, because this is all he’s ever been worth, innit? Dean had told him no one would ever want him as a mate when he couldn’t act like a proper Alpha; maybe he’d marry some beta after her real mate died, but that’s as good as he’d get.

Eggsy always wanted to say ‘ _like you did_ ,’ but that would be disrespectful to his mother, and he’d get belted for sure for it.

But he also feels pride, completely misplaced pride which he should let go of because it doesn’t mean anything, and he doesn’t mean anything to Harry. But the mark’s so high, so possessive, like he’s not ashamed to have Eggsy as his mate, for all that Eggsy’s only a second. It was probably the closest part of his neck, he knows intellectually, nothing to write home about. And Eggsy’s lucky Harry even bit him back, given the whole situation.

Roxy doesn’t say anything, however, and she doesn’t look at him with the pity he’s not quite sure he deserves, but knows people will feel anyway. He’s just an interloper in Harry's life, of course he’s just a second, he deserves the shame, not pity.

“At least with you, those who don’t know them will stop assuming they’re an Alpha/Alpha match and get snooty about it.” Roxy smiles at him, trying to lighten the mood, before wincing. She’s a friendly sort, so he lets her, rather than taking offence at her words. He knows he don’t look like a typical Alpha, he’s got a beta build and is pretty enough to be an Omega; Roxy looks relieved when he just laughs and agrees.

It’s not the insinuation that he’s not a proper Alpha that hurts, after all; it’s that she assumes that he’s in an actual relationship. That Harry and his Scot, Merlin, will want to be seen with him. Will want anything to do with him. It hurts because it’s so far from the truth, but maybe exactly what he dreams of. Not all three of them, for he’s never even seen Merlin, though he must look just as much Alpha as Harry does from what Roxy’s said. Tall, strong, dependable - everything Eggsy’s wanted since he figured out what his cock was for. Not that he’d ever act on it - same status matings weren’t overly rare, especially not between Betas, and Eggsy’s met a few Omegas mated to other Omegas, but Alpha pairs… It was always a disaster waiting to happen.

From what Eggsy’d seen, two Alphas couldn’t exist together like that, not without one of them snapping, eventually; not without violence and rage and a need to dominate.

So, regardless of the way his eyes had sometimes been drawn to the Alphas rather than the Betas or Omegas, he’d never given serious thought to approaching, regardless of what he thought about when he touched himself at night. And now Roxy was assuming he had everything he wanted - Harry, the gorgeous Omega who made Eggsy lose his breath, and Merlin, the Scottish Alpha Eggsy’d never seen but kind of wants anyway, because he’d smelt him on Harry, had licked his mating mark, and he didn’t need to _see_ for his body to _want_ \- and it just...

It hurt, a bit, is all, but nothing more than he’d expected. He's not an idiot, he knew what he was getting into. Kind of.

They walk back to the palace together, and for all that Eggsy’s avoided being spotted over the past fortnight, he stays in view and doesn’t scurry off at the first sign of someone else. It’s nice, talking to someone. Eggsy hadn’t realised how much he’d missed people, while he was hiding himself away in dusty corners of the large building. Roxy’s good company makes up for the fact that he’s likely going to be cornered by his grandmother at some point in the near future.

Eggsy even thinks he might find a way around that, too, because there’s no one in sight and they’re parting ways. If he’s quick, Eggsy can slide back into the unused spaces of the palace and avoid everyone. He’s three steps from freedom when Roxy calls out,

“Uncle!” and if he’d kept walking, he’d be back in the shadows and not in the awkward situation he was in. But he doesn’t keep walking, because Harry’s her uncle, and he wants to see his mate again, for all that he knows he shouldn’t. It’s like a compulsion; whenever Eggsy scents Harry around the corridors, he’s always a bit slower to slink away.

It’s not Harry who’s kissing Roxy on the cheek, however. The man’s taller than Roxy, taller than Eggsy - probably of a height with Harry, their mate. Eggsy has a split second to panic before the Scot, Merlin, straightens and Eggsy smooths his face out. Roxy turns to look at him, all smiles, and Merlin follows her line of sight. His face is carefully blank, and Eggsy grins cheerfully only through force of will. His stomach is churning, but he can’t ruin the facade. It’d be disastrous for all of them, and Eggsy’s nothing if not a man of his word.

“Eggsy, what are you doing over there?” Roxy asks, smiling, but for all she seems happy and genial, there’s a sharp look in her eyes. She’s testing him, checking to see if what he said was the truth, if he really is mated to Lord Hart, now. If he was lying. He's not offended; it's the smart thing to do, after all, and if it turned out Eggsy was lying, she'd have a large Alpha family member to help her take Eggsy down.

“Eggsy.” The Scot, Merlin, says, and the way he says it almost makes Eggsy weak in the knees. Eggsy moves forward, and Merlin automatically lifts an arm in a gesture that he probably uses on Harry, to tug Harry up against his side and half under his arm. Eggsy can tell that the man regrets it, from a slight tightening of the skin around his eyes, his mouth, but Roxy’s not looking, so the game’s not up yet. Eggsy slides easily underneath Merlins arm, takes a deep breath, ends up with a nose full of Merlin's scent.

It smells just as good as Eggsy remembers.

Roxy smiles at them, and Eggsy keeps his grin, even though he knows Dean would be taunting him, if he could see. When Harry and Merlin touch like this, Harry’s tall enough that it probably looks like an embrace of equals, Eggsy thinks.

Eggsy is short enough he feels possessed by Merlin's large arm wrapped around his shoulders; he wishes it felt horrible, that he was only doing this because he’d given his word, because of their mate.

But Eggsy can’t lie to himself, good as he is at lying to others.

It feels just as good as running his hands up Harry's bare skin had felt, and Eggsy wishes he didn't know that because now, when Roxy leaves and Eggsy goes back to skulking around the castle, he's going to have another chunk of his heart taken out, given to someone who doesn't want it - who doesn't even know he has it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey~~ Sorry it's been taking so long, this is just a super busy time for me. I had my final exams for the semester and since then I've been occupied with packing etc, etc because I'm leaving Mexico!! I only have a week left, and I'm so sad, Mexico is literally the best and you all should go. Anyway, I've been trying to write when I've had a few minutes down time, but since everyone's been like 'more!' I'll just leave this here and scamper away again. Definitely won't have a chance to post anything until after the first week of June. I will try to get things out to my other stories today as well, since I have more free time today than I have had/will have for the past/next couple of weeks, but no promises. :)

The reason why Alpha/Alpha pairings don’t tend to work out well, Merlin has found over the years, is more than the natural rub of two inherently dominant personalities. If that was all it took to ruin a relationship, he and Harry would’ve been over years ago. An Alpha is essentially a pile of negative personality traits shaped into the form of a human; anger, possessiveness, a need to dominate, to be at the top of any hierarchy. Day to day, it’s easy to accept and adapt to in other people, especially in professional settings. At home, though, living with another Alpha… there was a reason Alpha children moved out of home before Betas and Omegas. Having to submit to anyone, even a parent, grates when you’re in a place where you’re supposed to be able to relax.

Merlin’d been thinking, since Harry had poured his heart out about Gary, and it was going to take a lot of hard work to bring a second Alpha into their hard won stability. He and Gary were going to have to have a serious talk, work out boundaries and try and compromise if they were going to have any chance of succeeding. They’d never convince anyone the three of them were in a relationship if Gary and Merlin couldn’t stand to be in each others presence. It was better they do it now, fight and get it over with, before they had to showcase their relationship.

Before… Merlin's not going to think of that, not right now - not when he's got something arguably more important to think about, like Harrys happiness.

Merlin had carefully thought about what he was going to say and do, and more importantly what he _wasn’t_ going to do, when he spoke with Gary. When he eventually _found_ him; the man was hard to pin down, and no one seemed to know where he was. He’s almost frustrated enough to go and check the other Alphas rooms, which he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do, it’d start the whole conversation off on the wrong foot if Gary thought he was trying to encroach on his territory, when he heard a welcome voice call him away from his task. Roxy waved him away from the corridor he’d been about to head down, and he’s so focused on her - he hasn’t seen her for a good few months, needs to make sure she’s still hale and healthy - that he doesn’t notice someone’s lingering in the shadows of the staircase until she calls them over.

Merlin has no idea what an ‘Eggsy’ is, and then the person in the shadows shifts and it’s Gary. Or, Eggsy, apparently - and it would seem odd, wouldn’t it, if he didn’t call out the Alphas preferred name. They hadn’t told Roxy it was a sham, yet, hadn’t had the chance since she’d only just returned, but now was not the place to do it - if she reacted badly to the news, out in the open as they were, it could be disasterous.

“Eggsy.” Merlin calls as well, in case the younger man had any idea about leaving - Merlin almost bites his tongue, because that hadn’t been a friendly greeting, or a question, it was only half a shade away from an order. If the boy decided to turn his nose up at them and walk away, Merlin wouldn’t have blamed him - wouldn’t have liked it, but could have understood it. Instead Eggsy starts towards them and Merlin doesn’t even realise he’s done it until it’s too late for him to put his arm down, so he sets his jaw and commits to the gesture, ready and waiting for the other Alpha to lash out.

It was such a stupid thing to do, especially after what amounted to an order. It was exactly why Alpha/Alpha couples never worked out, because everything Merlin had just done, even after carefully coaching himself, was accidental and completely instinctual. Eggsy’s second mate to his first, and he knows that has to chafe, and attempting to dominate him - in public, no less - isn’t going to end well for anyone involved, accident or no. Merlin’s accidentally fucked them over, because there’s no way Eggsy’s going to react calmly, not after everything; Merlin knows he wouldn’t, if in the same position. He’d probably already have thrown a punch.

Except, the expected outburst doesn’t come.

The younger man just slides under his arm, calm as you please, and his scent doesn’t sour with anger or bitterness at the submission. He doesn’t even attempt to swing an arm up and place his hand on Merlins shoulder, regaining some sort of equality. He just curls his arm around Merlins waist, and huddles under Merlins arm, and it’s so perfectly submissive that for a second Merlin’s not quite sure that Eggsy is Gary.

It is, of course, because now Merlin can smell him, and it’s the same scent that clung to Harrys skin after he was married, when Merlin thought he’d lost him. It was impossible to forget that scent.

Roxy smiles at them, and continues to chat for a few minutes - Merlin’s not sure if he said anything, or left all the talking to Eggsy and Roxy, because the immediate submission of the Alpha who he still thinks of as competition, regardless of what he’s been trying to tell himself, sent heat shooting through his body, settling in his groin. Roxy makes her goodbyes, eventually, and she looks amused when it takes him half a second longer than it should to bend down and kiss her cheek. She’s obviously noticed the way he’s been staring at Eggsy, which isn’t going to help when they have to tell her the truth. He’s got bigger things on his mind, though, because as soon as Roxy’s gone from sight, Eggsy tries to maneuver his way out from under Merlins arm.

What Merlin should do is lift his arm, approach this conversation rationally and ask Eggsy to speak with him, giving the younger man the choice. It’s the right move, because surely the young Alpha has a breaking point, and it’s probably being physically restrained - so Merlin should definitely remove his arm. What he does instead is tighten his hold, and pull the resisting man to shadows of the stair where he’d been lurking before. It wasn’t anywhere close to private, but it was as good as they were going to get. He might be able to drag the physically smaller man further away, find some actual privacy, but it’d only damage what he was trying to achieve.

Standing in a shadow corner, the blond man still pressed up against his side, however, Merlin was finding it a bit hard to remember what, exactly, he was trying to achieve. He knew in the broad scheme of things what he had to do, but everything he's planned goes completely out the window looking down at the gorgeous _submissive_ Alpha he'd heard Harry speak about so passionately.

Against his better judgement, Merlin really should know better, at his age, he slid his arm from around Eggsys shoulder and lifted his hand, tugging down the high collar which was obstructing his view of the scars Harry had left.


	7. Chapter 7

There’s a moment where time seems to stop, and all Eggsy can feel is the tips of Merlins fingers brushing lightly over his mark. No one’s touched the mark since Harry bit it into his skin, not even Eggsy, and it’s mostly healed now, but sensitive - achingly so. The slightest brush from the older mans fingers have his knees going weak, makes him want to present his neck. What he wouldn’t give to submit to the other Alpha - establish the hierarchy in their fucked up triad. If he shows the man that he’s no threat to his mate bond with Harry, that there’s no competition for Harrys affections, maybe they’ll let him stay on the edges of their lives.

He wants that, wants _anything_. He thought he was fine, talking to no one, seeing no one, but twenty minutes with Roxy has him reeling because he likes people, needs to be around people - he can’t exist on his own, like he’s been doing.

Maybe they’ll even let him look after their baby, once Harry gives birth. He’s thought about it, about his mates pregnancy. He tries not to, because everything in him is telling him to go to Harry, make sure he’s okay, see if he needs anything, if Eggsy can help with anything, and he’s got no right to insert himself into their lives like that. But he’s good with kids, loved it when Daisy was a tiny tot, loved looking after her. And at least then he can pretend he’s wanted, even if only as the babysitter.

He feels his knees wobble, like they’re all too keen to hit the floor for Merlin, and he almost does it.

Almost.

He can only imagine the look on the older mans face if he did, though. He’s heard it enough from Dean in his life, even a few whispers of it in the army - about how easy he submitted, sometimes, without the grudging, almost antagonistic air that other Alphas had. In the army, no one ever said anything openly, never to his face, and he learnt quick to mimic the other Alphas he trained and fought with. The tightness in the shoulders, the thin line of an unhappy mouth. Back at home, though, Dean had known Eggsy since he was a child, and hadn’t made a secret of how much it disgusted him.

Eggsy could submit to Merlin no problem, and the other man would probably be pleased about it, chuffed at his dominance in the way that all Alphas were. It’d be later that the disquiet would come, when he’d think on it and how easily it’d happened, how unconcerned Eggsy was at submitting, that it’d seem off. Then he’d know that something wasn’t quite right with Eggsy, would be disgusted the way Dean and all his mates were, and Eggsy couldn’t deal with that, not here when he had no one.

So he tilts his head in the peculiar manner he’s seen so often, where you don’t bear any more of your neck than’s necessary, and you don’t bow your head at all, and you aggressively keep eye contact. It’s not a move that’s ever come naturally to him, and he can tell he’s left a bit of his neck exposed, on the side where Merlin’s touching his mark. He’d stopped caressing it when Eggsy moved, when he rearranged his posture into something more dominant.

Merlin didn’t move his hand away, however, instead he rested his hand on top of Eggsys shoulder, and dragged his thumb across the sensitive mark. He used more pressure than he had before, and Eggsy couldn’t help the way his head listed to the side, slightly. He realised, belatedly, that he probably should have moved away from the older mans hand and he’s going to do it now - he is. Except, it’s hard to move away when his entire body wants to arch into the touch, into the only human contact he’s had since Harry. He’s never gone so long without being touched before - he didn’t realise how much he missed it until Merlins arm settled around his shoulders.

And now he has to give it up, has to move away to reinforce the facade that he’s dominant, that he _wants_ to dominate, because if he doesn’t he’s weird and wrong and then there’ll be no chance that Harry and Merlin will let him around their child; around them.

So he does, takes a step back so the heavy hand falls off his shoulders. Merlins nail catches his skin as his hand falls, and Eggsy can’t help the way he shivers before all contact’s lost and he’s alone, isolated, again, for all that he’s still not alone. Eggsy’s still looking Merlin in the eyes, defiant in a way he hopes looks dominant, the way he’s seen a few of his commanding officers eye each other when they disagree. Because it doesn’t feel like it, doesn’t feel like they’re equals - knows that they’re not, in any way, but hopes his inferiority doesn’t show in his gaze.

“We need to talk.” Merlin breaks the silence, and Eggsy nods, not trusting his voice right now. Yes, they still need to sort out the hierarchy in their triad. It’s unnecessary, and Eggsy knows they both know it, both know how it’s going to unfold, and who’s going to end up on the bottom of the ladder. Still, it _is_ traditional, and if Merlin wants to, then it they’ll do it. Eggsy scoffs, internally, at his own easy compliance, can almost hear Dean laughing spitefully at him, at how terrible an Alpha he is. Still, it’s too late for him to change his mind and try to challenge Merlin about it, try and wrest control of the conversation - it’d only be petty, and Eggsy’s determined to get through it with his head held high. No matter what, he’s still going to respect himself when everything’s said and done, regardless of if he’s the only one.

There’s sound, suddenly, footsteps hurrying calmly towards the courtyard they’re in, and a voice carrys across the open space.

“Merlin and, ah, Gary, I wondered where you’d been hiding yourself.” Eggsy feels his face curl into an unpleasant expression, one mirrored by Merlin. His grandmother strolls across towards them but, smartly, stops well short of the two Alphas. Merlins expression has hardened into something truly ferocious, though he manages to restrain himself as he turns to face the old woman. She carries herself with grace in the face of hostility, Eggsy’ll give her that, but that’s about all.

“Queen dowager.” Merlin greets, formally though his voice is suddenly ice cold and thick with accent. Her gaze turns to Eggsy, and he puffs himself up, Alpha through his posture and his face. This, he thinks, is what he should have done when Merlin touched him, caressed him. Instead, it’s being used to intimidate an Omega; the fact that it obviously works shouldn’t please him so much, but it does.

“You was lookin’ for me?” He asks, instead of greeting her. She bristles, a bit, but clearly decides it’s not the right time, or the right audience for her to make a scene.

“I see you’ve met Merlin.” She says, ignoring the question, and Eggsy gets a sudden stroke of brilliance, and smiles at her. If his smile happens to bare as many teeth as possible, and if he’s worn it while gutting enemies on the battlefield, well, surely that’s an accident or a coincidence. Not like he’s trying to scare the old duck. Still, she takes a small step back when Eggsy takes a large step forward, drawing level with Merlin.

“Oh, I’ve met him.” Eggsy turns his gaze from her, and instead he looks at Merlin as lasciviously as possible, and watches with glee as her face pulls taut, lips forming into a line.

“Aye, we’ve been getting along well.” Merlin plays along while Eggsy looks back at her, and manages not to laugh at the look on her face.

“Very well.” Eggsy adds, and she looks like she’s regretting even approaching them - a very different look to the malicious glee she’d been sporting upon seeing them sequestered away in the corner of the courtyard.

“Hm, well. How… pleasant.” She tries to smile, and mostly manages it.

“Was there anything you needed?” Merlin asks, and Eggsy crosses his arms as they wait for an answer, tilting his head back so he can look down his nose at her; it’s rare he finds pleasure in being an Alpha, but this is one occasion where he’s absolutely loving it. Any thought of kindness to her, or maybe deference due to her age or standing, is completely obliterated every time he remembers how she smiled when she’d threatened his mum and Daisy.

“I just came to remind Gary about his lessons. He’s skipped most of them.” She says, trying for kindly, for grandmotherly, and it might’ve unbent someone else. The effort fails in the face of the two suddenly united Alphas, however.

“All of ‘em, you mean.” Eggsy says, and Merlins lips twitch into an almost smile; it does nothing to soften the hardness in his face, only accentuates it, and the Queen mother clears her throat.

“Yes, well, perhaps an adjustment to your attitude is needed?” There’s steel in her voice, now, and Eggsy has no doubt as to what she means, almost forgets to breath as he’s overtaken by fear and anger.

“I could nae agree more.” Merlins tone is suddenly cheerful, and if Eggsy hadn’t seen how much the other man disliked the woman, if he couldn’t understand why, he’d be wary. As it is, there’s very little chance Harry’s concealed anything about the entire arranged marriage and mating, so Eggsy just waits to hear what Merlin’s got to say, and see the reaction it’ll have on the old woman in front of them.

“And Harry or I will make sure he attends. Should be easy enough, now that he’s moving into our rooms.” Eggsy can barely appreciate the way all the colour blanches from the womans face, because he’s too busy trying not to give the game away with the way he freezes. It’s a total lie, of course, he knows - but he’s also just been publicly claimed by his mates Alpha, essentially, and he’s… a mess, really. He’d already known that submitting to Merlin would be no hardship, especially not to get closer to their mate, but he’d _also_ decided not to submit to him - not even five minutes before, he’d refused to, regardless of what his body tried to persuade him to do.

And now Merlin’d announced to his grandmother he’d be moving in with them. But it’s a lie, he _knows_ it’s a lie, and thankfully he didn’t tense up visibly. So he just keeps up the smirk and relaxed his vocal chords enough to say,

“I should have no trouble _getting up_ in the morning. For classes, I mean.” They all know what he means. It’s a bit crass, but makes her flush a splotchy red and Eggsy almost laughs in her face. He wants to work in a jab about how big their bed is, maybe something that would really scandalize her but isn’t quick enough.

“Which reminds me, Harry should be waiting for us. If you’ll excuse us, ma’am.” Merlin doesn’t give her a chance to refuse, just gives a curt half bow and turns to go. He taps Eggsy between his shoulder blades as he passes, and the younger man obediently gives the same half bow before following, leaving his grandmother absolutely gob smacked as he walks shoulder to shoulder with the Scottish Alpha he was meant to replace.

It takes him five steps to realise he’d followed Merlins silent command and he almost swears out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long! I was like, yeah, Australia - winter, no, what is this? Why am I cold? I've already had winter, it's not fair. So, in conclusion, there's really no reason why this took so long. I should be updating my other fics within a few days as well. Probably not tonight, but by the end of the weekend, definitely. 
> 
> Also, someone (I'm too lazy to look through my reviews again rn, I'm sorry!) actually wanted my lj, which is http://cimila.livejournal.com/ so :), thank you for your interest in my general rambles.
> 
> Also, thank you everyone for your reviews! They make me really happy, and I know I don't really reply, but I never know what to say, because it just makes me stupid happy and I can't really put that into words. Apart from some sort of keyboard mash. My response is usually stupid grin and also blush, because I'm super white and have no control over my blood flow. <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I am sorry this took so long. I meant to have it done for Christmas. And then for New Years. But happy fourth of January!! Perhaps happy birthday to someone? Perhaps just have a great day.

Merlin’s confident that he’s made the right decision, searching Eggsy out and bringing him back to their quarters so that they can have a proper talk, and get everything out in the open, until he actually brings the younger alpha back to the rooms he and Harry share. It’s not that he’s had a sudden change of heart, or due to overwhelming nerves, or any such thing - Merlin is sure that this path, being completely honest about their wants and needs, is the only way for everyone to get what they wants. The stricken look on Harrys face when he sees Eggsy walk in after Merlin shows that, perhaps, he should have talked to Harry, first.

Rather obvious in hindsight, actually.

“Gary, what a surprise.” Harry pulls himself together easily enough, face smoothed out to polite neutral before Eggsy’s even looked at him.

“Merlin saved from that old bags clutches.” Eggsy grins up at him, and it throws Merlin off, again. Nothing Eggsy does makes any sense. He’d skulked sullenly behind Merlin the entire way back to his and Harrys rooms, giving up on slipping away after the third time Merlin wrapped a hand around his wrist to stop him. And yet, there was no anger or malice as he smiled up at Merlin. Nothing that could possibly indicate the simmering discontent and mounting anger that the young Alpha _should_ have - that any only young Alpha would have at being handled so.

Merlin never could give up puzzles.

“Speaking of, how long do you think it will take to gather your things?” There’s a second where Eggsy’s just as confused as Harry, and then his eyes widen, and he shakes his head.

“Nah, don’t worry guv. I know you only said it to piss her off.”

“I insist, lad. You wouldn’t make a liar out of me, would ye?” Eggsy opens his mouth, likely to argue the point, when Harry cuts in.

“What on Earth are the pair of you talking about?” This is where it would be tricky, if he didn’t know Harry so well.

“The Queen Dowager was scolding Eggsy for missing lessons, and I assured her that he’d find his way to his lessons, now that he’s moving in with us.” For a moment, as Harry thinks over what he’s just been told, Eggsy looks like he’s going to bolt, right out of their rooms and back to wherever he’s been hiding. Merlin’s perfectly willing to chase him down; the heat that starts pooling in his groin at the thought almost makes him wish the lad would run. He doesn’t, though. Instead, he slouches against the door frame, looking like he’s got a list of a million places he’d rather be.

“I imagine she was absolutely delighted at the prospect.” Harry deadpans, and Eggsy chuckles, nodding his head.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, bruv.” Merlin chances looking away from Eggsy in order to catch Harrys eye, gauge his thoughts. He’s sure his mate’s fine with it, but it’s always better to check. No use bounding ahead with plans if Harry wants to pull the plug. But, as usual, Harry’s right there with him, and Merlin turns back towards Eggsy with a grin. Harry Hart wasn’t the sort of man who let an opportunity slip through his fingers, especially not one such as this.

“In that case, it is our duty, as gentlemen, to prevent any disappointment she might feel.” And Eggsy’s a quick lad, it only takes him a second to realise what that means.

“Wait- for real?”

“It’s not as though we’re short on space.” The older Englishman comments, dryly, gesturing to what they refer to as their rooms, which is true. Only, they’ve a very many rooms to claim as their territory. Eggsy thinks for a long moment, before he shrugs like he’s got not feelings either way on the matter.

“Alright. I’ll go get my things, then. Be back in a jiff.” And Merlin would be concerned about him slipping away for a sennight, or a fortnight, or forever, had he not seen the secret little smile that had been on Eggsy's lips, just before he’d vanished from sight. So Merlin turns back towards his mate, and leans down to press a kiss to his lips. Before they’d come in, Harry had been pouring over papers on his desk, and there’s a high chance that he needs to get back to his work. However, they were both very aware that Harry actually returning to his work now was very, very low. Merlin would even say nonexistent.

“Had an interesting afternoon walk, did we?” Harry raises an eyebrow, and Merlin doesn’t even bother pretending to be the least bit ashamed of himself.

“Oh, aye. Roxy’s back.”

“Excellent. I imagine you invited her to tea?” Harry’s only asked the question as a formality because of course Merlin invited her to tea, except, did he?

“I, ah, may have been a wee bit distracted.”

“You may have been _what_?”

“Distracted.” Merlin repeats, placing his hands on the back of Harrys chair and leaning down so he can speak the next part directly into Harrys ear.

“By the delightful feel of your little mate pressed against me.” And, oh, what an interesting reaction Harry has to that. He understands it, though. He can’t wait until they talk everything out and, hopefully, he can unravel the mystery that is Eggsy. And then take him to pieces in a very, _very_ different way. Merlin presses a light kiss to the side of his neck before drawing back.

“Don’t tease, Merlin.” Harry scolds, and the Scot can’t help but chuckle.

“We could continue, Harry, but Eggsy’ll be back soon enough, and I don’t think it’ll be a proper welcome if he walks in ta see us fucking on the carpet.” Merlin knows exactly what Harry thinks of that, because he’s likely thinking the same thing. If he knew for certain that Eggsy’d not be scared off by it, he’d already be shedding clothes. But he doesn’t want to tempt the lad into disappearing into the shadows again, and they need to talk before any sort of physicality happens, so he merely picks up a book and sits down opposite Harry, while the dark haired man returns to his paperwork.

Between them, they get absolutely nothing done until Eggsy returns.

And then, instead of sitting down and talking it out like reasonable adults, Harry does something Merlin’s only seen once or twice in the entire time they’ve known each other.

“Right!” He exclaims, loudly, as soon as Eggsy meanders his way back into their rooms, clapping his hands together for emphasis.

He panics.

“We were thinking about taking a small trip, would you like to come?” That is certainly not what they need to talk about. Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Eggsy speaks before Merlin can open his mouth.

“Harry, to get outta this place, I would honestly stab someone.”

“Excellent. We’ll head out tomorrow. Come, I’ll show you around, and you can choose where you want to sleep.” And then he’s up and leading Eggsy away before Merlin can put a stop to the entire farce.

“Where’re we going, anyway?” He hears Eggsy ask, and Merlin covers his face with a hand, doesn’t bother to mumble when he says,

“We’re taking a small trip to idiocy, apparently.”

He’ll give Harry three days and, after that, Merlin’s going to force the three of them to talk. And if Harry still refuses, then Merlin’s going to have to talk to Eggsy on his own. If it comes to that, and if Eggsy is amenable, of course, they’ll get to see if Harry’ll sing a different tune when confronted with his two Alphas fucking on their bed.

Which, soon after, would be the bed all three of them will share.

Could’ve been the bed all three of them shared tonight, but Merlin'll keep him mouth shut about that. A least, until Eggsy can tease with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't for Harry panicking, this chapter would have been the last, and ended with a huge threesome. Like, pages and pages of threesome. Instead, you get more plot. Kind of. :)


End file.
